


I am... We are...

by ko_writes



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Depression, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Emotions, Family, Friendship, Gen, Inferiority Complex, MJN Air Is A Family, Malnutrition, Paternal Carolyn, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smuggling, inner monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles in the voices of Carolyn, Arthur, Douglas and Martin. Listen to the tags as this work may be bordering on mature and I don't with to trigger or offend anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carolyn

   I am a mother, first and foremost. I love my son, even if I don’t really say it, but he knows; he can pick up on things like that, much to my gratitude.

   I am also the CEO of an airdot, but I feel more like a mother there, too. I have thought about it often, not that I’d tell anyone; Arthur, I’ve seemed to mentally refer to him as my youngest – a young child, which in all honesty is how I would see him even if it were not like it is with the rest of MJN – and Martin acts like he’s my middle child every now and then – not unlike an early teenager; gawky, self-conscious, shy, with a bit of a complex… Alright, a lot of a complex.

   I’ve always been split when it came to Douglas, though. One minute I think of him as my eldest, a young man straying into adulthood, but can still find time for his brothers and humour Arthur’s games and whims, then helps Martin feel a little better in himself if the light-hearted teasing hits a tender area. Other times, I think of him and me as baby sitters. I have Arthur and he has Martin and we both have to run around a small house and keep them both in check. Martin is usually fine and can cope by himself until the walls he builds around his issues crumble down, and he’s left in Douglas’ arms to try and gain his control again.

   But either way, I’ve neglected the one piece of advice I’ve heard repeated time and time again; never work with children or animals; but I don’t really care as I wouldn’t have it either way.

   Wow… When I think of myself I think of my family – yes, _family_ , more than I do me. Well, that just shows I am a mother, I suppose. While I think it’s a little sad I think of myself like this, I can’t say I’d change it for the world.


	2. Arthur

   I am an idiot. Everyone says it; mum, dad, Martin, Douglas, even passengers, people I don’t even know.

   I know they’re right because, until now, I thought I wasn’t… And I’m always wrong, so they must be right.

   I though Douglas and Martin were my friends. I always keep them entertained and they trust me.

   Martin even cried in front of me the other day, he doesn’t trust anyone else with it; he usually waits until he thinks we can’t see or hear him, but I can. I don’t know if mum and Douglas know. I just don’t know what to say. I only put my arms around him because I couldn’t think what else to do, because I’m an idiot, but I think he appreciated it. I am a helper, after all. I held him as we put bandages around his arms as well as colourful sticking plasters as they bled onto the tiles of the bathroom. He told me he just wanted to feel something.

I’ll end up telling mum and Douglas, because I am a traitor, even if I don’t mean to be. Martin will hate me and it will make him even more sad and empty. I think about him a lot. I worry. I think he should get help, but he told me it would go away soon and he’ll be himself again. I hope he’s right.

   Douglas has dark thoughts too, but they aren’t as bad as Martin’s. It’s when the bottle of vodka in his hotel room starts whispering, that’s what he said, though I’ve never heard a bottle whisper. I help him as best as best as I can, but I think he’s tired of trying.

   I help mum when dad phones, she cries because she can remember hands around her neck and bruises on her cheek. I sometimes think of the pain of being thrown down the stairs. I think they’re flashbacks. I don’t know, because I’m stupid. I’m a _stupid son of a bitch who doesn’t know anything_!

   But that’s just dad talking… I hope.

   I am helpful. I am a shoulder to cry on. I think I am deluded.


	3. Douglas

   I am a sinner. That’s simple enough. I have enough demons to be considered one myself. I have done truly terrible things.

   I never told anyone this apart from ‘clients’ in medical school; I had issues with prescription drugs, Vicodin especially. I also sold if I got desperate for money. I hate to think how many lives, including my own, I ruined. Detoxing from the pain killers led me to bottle after bottle of gin, whiskey, anything alcoholic, really.

   I ruined lives so I ruined my own – simple.

   I’m surprised I passed my CPL, considering how hung-over I was. I didn’t deserve it. Martin deserved it. He put the hours in, he made the effort, he wasn’t blind drunk the night of his exam – and he still failed. That shouldn’t have happened; he should, in a fair world, have passed first time. But he didn’t. I did.

   I am a smuggler. I am a thief. I don’t deserve my licence – I don’t even deserve this job. I don’t deserve Carolyn, Arthur or Martin. I deserve to die alone.

   I deserve nothing but pain. Martin deserves better. Arthur told me a few minutes ago that Martin is depressed and self-harms. He doesn’t know what to do. Neither do I. The boy deserves better. I wish I could put him in my perfect life with the Lexus, the romance, the big apartment, the pay check; whilst leaving the addictions and infidelity out of it. The boy deserves better.

   I think of Martin a lot. We all do. We worry. The boy’s in trouble with his own mind. He needs help. We just don’t know what to do.

   MJN is my only escape. It gives me the wings of an angel and the chance to do go things that silence the bottles’ whispers for a while. I now see the attraction Martin has to it. It’s something else to focus on rather than self-destruction.

   I am an addict.

   I am a fraud.

   I am the devil.

   I am an angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one is quite depressing. Apologies.  
> Please review!


	4. Martin

   I am… lots of things…

   I don’t know where to start.

   I am a disgrace. I’ve been told that often enough. My parents never approved of my interest… fuck it, _obsession_ with flying. Sure, they humoured me when I was little, of course; but then they were just ashamed. And so they should be.

   I am depressed. I feel the void, the black hole pulling me in and separating me from most of my emotions. But I can still cry. I hold onto that like a life-raft as it shows I am not as bad as I was and _I don’t need to go back on the bloody pills! They’ll take my license, Arthur!_ I’ll be fine. Just… I need time. I don’t need to be grounded. I don’t want to be.

   I am a self-harmer. I cut. I slice into my arm so I can feel anything other than the heavy sadness and fear. Pain is euphoric. Pain is relief. It’s a bad thought, one that shows just how fucked up I am. I don’t want it to go while I still feel like this. Arthur knows. He’ll tell Carolyn and Douglas. That’s probably why I let him clean me up, so he would tell the others so I don’t have to. I cry too often as it is.

   I am an awful pilot. The thing I’ve spent years learning to do and spent thousands of pounds on… And I’m terrible at it. I hate myself. Why do I always fuck up and make the wrong choices. I don’t know.

   I am starving. The only thing I eat now-a-days are the catered meals on flights. Maybe a slice of cheese or two if Douglas hasn’t won it all. I am slowly wasting away. It’s been harder during van jobs recently. My uniform has gotten looser; if anyone’s noticed, they haven’t said anything.

   I am a dreamer. Head in the clouds either literally or figuratively. I don’t know if it’s good or bad anymore. I’m quickly losing interest in most things – except flying. I still love that, even if anyone with half a brain cell would quit. I have my dreams still – so I can’t be that bad, can I? My dreams sustain me more than nourishment, I can continue. I will continue. If I just close my eyes… Everything will be better once I wake up…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Please review.


	5. MJN

   We are a family. We bicker, we disagree, but we love each other.

   We help the mother who has lost so much, yet somehow gained. We help her see her purpose. We help her find her heart again.

   We help the helpers that are in need. We let them soothe our wounds so they can feel validation. We help them feel whole again, when something has been torn from them.

   We help the sinners feel better. We help them not to sin. We give them angel wings and problems to solve. And in return, they save us time and time again until they transform, like a phoenix reincarnated from the dead, into our guardian angel.

   We help the lonely. We soothe the depressed. We lend them helping hands and raise them up, so the dreamers may touch the sky.

   We help each other through our hardships. We give purpose to those who need it. We give strength to the helpers who give so much. We give light to the devil to make him good. And we give Icarus his wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review

**Author's Note:**

> Please review.


End file.
